You're such a cad, Potter
by glassf1re
Summary: Harry and Draco are divorced, and happily so, but when a freak accident turns them back into mischievous teenagers for the day all bets are off...


A gift for my wonderful friend and muse, Jade (ConsultingShippers).

Thank you for all your kind words and support darling!

Xx

(also, by way of disclaimer, I dutifully declare that all places, characters, and magical things belong to Ms JK Rowling.)

* * *

Draco looked out over the bustling Great Hall of Hogwarts School with a mixture of envy and astonishment at the _tiny_ students scurrying around it.

Above him, the ceiling re-imagined the dusky sky outside, and before long a large hand flattened over his shoulder and squeezed; he tensed involuntarily.

"Well if it isn't _Draco Malfoy_ ," a hushed voice dripped into his ear. "Heard a rumour you were teaching this term. Didn't believe it until now though."

Draco relaxed and swatted the hand away.

"Bugger off Potter, I'm trying to keep an eye out for my ex-husband," he said, making a show of tracing the room with his fork. "With any luck I can avoid the git altogether."

"Wow," Harry whistled, slinking into the nearest available chair, "Sounds like there's a story there."

Draco shrugged, turning his attention back to his food. "Well, you know, just the usual: Boy meets boy. Boy dazzles boy with his completely devastating romantic skills. They run off, they get married, they reckon they're gonna change the world or whatever, but then… Boy serves boy with divorce papers."

"Well," Harry rubbed his chin, "That does sound pretty git-ish."

"He took the best years of my life, you know. Took them, used them up, discarded them…" Draco trailed off melodramatically.

"Say, if I didn't know better Malfoy, I'd think you were still hung up on this guy."

Draco's face broke into a mischievous smirk, "Ha! He wishes!"

It was a challenge. Harry knew it even before Draco shot him one of those little sideways glances that he had long ago perfected.

"Sometimes," he admitted with a dramatic coating of nonchalance.

Draco lifted up an eyebrow at him; Harry recognised the gesture as a salute of respect.

"Well, so long as it's only _sometimes_ Potter – I'd hate to think those divorce lawyers got all those galleons out of us on a _jolly_."

"Hey, mine cut a perfectly reasonable pay-cheque, _yours_ was the shark."

Draco theatrically mimed his innocence for a full six seconds. "Let's get a look at you then."

Harry allowed himself to be hustled to his feet. They gripped each other comfortably at arm's length, studying what they saw.

"I think you got taller."

"Maybe you shrunk."

"What the hell have you been eating?"

"Is that a _tan,_ Malfoy?"

"Fuck off – you try working in Bolivia for six months and keeping a pale complexion."

They shared a grin and clasped each other in a good, solid, man-hug.

"Whose office did you get?"

"Trewlawney's."

"Score," Harry nodded appreciatively. "I've got a bottle of firewhisky with your name on it."

Draco knew that Harry had probably gone so far as to change the label so that it read something daft like: _'Malfoy's Wonderbrew – two sips and you're tippled'_. Harry could be rather literally-minded when it came to things like that.

"See you at eight?"

"Nine," Harry amended, "Got prefects to terrify first."

Draco clapped him on the back and made to take his leave, laughing quietly and shaking his head, "Alright then, nine."

"Hey Malfoy," Harry called out to him as he headed off in the other direction, "I've got a feeling about this year. It's gonna be a good one, don't you think?"

"I'll hold you to that, Potter!"

* * *

It didn't take Draco long to discover that teaching kids to fly was less about the flying _itself_ and more about averting the various crises that arose when one of those kids decided it might be fun to, say… fly themselves into the ground… or the side of a building… or in the case of Bobby Campbell, get 'freaked out' and stop his broom dead in the air at two-hundred feet…

Needless to say, by the time winter rolled around Draco could conjure a pretty damn impressive trapeze net, and that skill might have been useful had he stepped out into the transfiguration courtyard a few moments earlier one fateful December morning. But, alas, it wasn't to be, and instead he found Harry lying flat on his back in the middle of a large patch of black ice, groaning and in obvious pain.

"Looking good, Potter," he called out as he made his way over.

Harry blinked up at him. "Oh fuck off and help me up will you?"

Draco thought about it while Harry felt suitably sorry for himself.

"Well, which would you prefer?"

A clap of thunder sounded overhead and ominous grey clouds started to move over their position.

Harry grasped at some loose snow and flung it at Draco by way of an answer; Draco rolled his eyes and stretched out his hand.

"Dick," Harry grumbled as he took the hand and hauled himself upright, wincing when the motion sent ribbons of pain down his spine.

Draco's eyes creased with concern. "Are you alright?"

"Too fucking old for this," Harry ground out just as rain started to fall in heavy sheets.

Draco stuck his tongue in his cheek to keep from laughing. Some people found Harry quite terrifying when he got himself into a grump like this but Draco could never take it seriously.

"What, walking?" he asked innocently.

Harry glared at him. "Chasing after fucking Hopkins, he's only gone and let a box of dungbombs off in the kitchens."

"Well, he'll have to face the music sometime then, won't he? Come on, let's get you to the hospital wing."

Draco placed one of Harry's arms over his shoulders and flattened a magically warmed palm over the small of his back, guiding him back to the castle.

Harry sighed and let himself be led.

"Too good to me," he murmured.

"Yes dear," Draco replied, patting Harry's hand on his shoulder as he concentrated on navigating the slippery steps.

They reached the top without further injury, but just as they stepped through the entranceway a bolt of lightning hit the doorway's iron frame. A brilliant orange glow smacked into them from all sides and they both stumbled forwards from the force of it.

"Woah," Draco coughed, "You okay?"

"What the fuck _was_ that?"

"I have no-" Draco stopped himself short. "Uh, Harry?"

Harry's eyes flicked over to him and he immediately understood the odd tinge to Draco's voice. Beside him stood a version of Draco that still wore school robes – that still _fitted into_ school robes. He took a moment to squeeze his eyes tightly shut before daring to glimpse down at himself.

"Holy sh-"

"My sentiments exactly."

Harry found the nearest available shiny surface and proceeded to poke and prod at his own face, sucking in his cheeks and pulling up his chin.

"So is it just us or are we back in time do you think?"

Draco tore his eyes away from Harry's antics and flitted them around the hall but there was no evidence one way or the other, the castle had looked the same for at least the past hundred years.

Just then the air filled with the sound of approaching footsteps and voices. "Quick," he urged Harry, dragging him out of sight by his sleeve. The pair ducked into a darkened alcove just in time to see a huddle of Hufflepuffs shuffle past.

"That's Annie Richardson," Draco breathed. "She's one of my second years."

Harry let his shoulders slump back against the wall and whistled out a sigh of relief.

"Well thank fuck for that."

Draco quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Well if I've got to be a raging ball of hormones again I'd rather do it without Voldemort lurking behind every corner, you know?"

"Right enough," Draco said, feeling decidedly queasy at the thought.

"What do we reckon then? Pomfrey?"

Draco very nearly agreed. Harry could spot the exact moment that his mind veered off-course by the way his lip twisted reflexively upwards into the beginnings of that trademark smirk.

"Or..."

"Or..?"

"We could have a little fun first?"

That smirk was growing more mischievous by the second. It was infectious. It took hold of Harry as easily as it always had.

"What _kind_ of fun?" he baited himself, though they both knew he was already on board.

"Well you said it, didn't you. We get to be kids again. And in a world fucking paradisical to the one we lived through - no deatheaters, no dementors, no psychotic relatives, and absolutely no snatchers." Draco paused. He had a way about him that Harry rarely ever saw, it was almost _mournful_. "Maybe this is the universe's way of giving back some of what it took."

Harry wrapped his fingers around Draco's wrist. It was much too thin. He noticed for the first time the dark circles framing Draco's eyes and the worry lines creasing his brow. He knew at once where - or rather _when_ \- these bodies had come from. In their sixth year Harry hadn't much cared what Draco might be suffering through – he hadn't really considered that he would be suffering at all - but often when he looked back he wished he had. Draco would never let him finish those types of thoughts. _'Just fucking drop it already, Harry'_ he'd say, and walk away from the conversation altogether.

"So?" Draco prompted him, looking down pointedly at his wrist until Harry relaxed his grip. "Come on, Potter..." he said in that low drawl he reserved for when he really wanted something.

Harry shook off the last of his melancholy and grinned. "I'm in."

"Where do you want to start?"

"Well," Harry waggled his eyebrows, "I have a fairly decent idea of where we might get our hands on a few spare dungbombs."

* * *

Draco blasted down the charms corridor with Harry hot on his heels. Behind them a hoard of disgruntled Ravenclaws gave chase.

"In here," Harry hissed as they rounded a corner, pulling them into a passageway obscured from view by a heavy tapestry of the school's coat of arms. They rested against the wall, chests heaving even as they did their best to stifle their breath. The hoard passed by without any sign of hesitation.

They slumped to the ground in unison. With a few delirious tremors Harry started up a fit of laughter that saw them both wheezing and clutching at one other within minutes. Afterwards they leaned up against each other until Harry broke the comfortable silence with a lengthy groan.

"What is it?"

"You don't wanna know."

"You too then, huh?"

Harry dared to look down at Draco's lap to see if they did in fact share the same predicament, snorting when he saw it was true.

"Fucking teenage hormones," Draco muttered to himself. "Thank Salazar I didn't fancy you back in school, Potter. I'd have been entirely ineffectual as your arch-nemesis."

"Oh it's fine, I'm sure Voldemort could have stepped up to the plate in a pinch."

Draco chuckled quietly to himself and shifted his position, putting a some distance between them. He closed his eyes and Harry heard him mutter something about McGonagall in a bikini.

"You know," Harry started conversationally, "I could think of an easier way to resolve the situation..." He reached out and found the backs of Draco's fingers with the tips of his own, tapping away gently while he waited for an answer.

Draco snorted and moved his hand but otherwise ignored him.

Harry wasn't so easily deterred. He held onto his breath and carefully closed the distance between them, bringing his lips to Draco's neck. No sooner had they touched Draco's skin than Harry felt himself being pulled back by the scruff of his robes and deposited in his original spot. "Oh no you don't."

Harry had himself a little huff of frustration.

"Aberforth," Draco supplied without looking at him. "And a whole herd of goats."

Harry gagged but ran with it and sure enough the pressure in his balls started to subside.

"Thanks," he said with some effort.

"You'd have regretted it in the morning."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, probably."

Draco let his head roll to the side and smirked. He reached out and splayed his hand out over Harry's face.

"Ger'off!" Harry swatted him away but Draco could tell he was grateful for something to break the tension.

They lounged there, breathing in the dark.

"Draco?"

"Yes dear?"

Harry flicked him in the head.

"Ow! _What?_ "

"You know how you joke about... like, when you say that I robbed you of your best years and stuff... Is that- is that-"

"A _joke_?"

Harry picked at the floor with his nails. It was tiled apparently. "Well, yeah..."

"How long have you been brewing that one?"

Harry shrugged, somehow feeling every bit the boy that matched the body.

"We had a good run, Harry. We were happy. You _know_ that, you were _there_."

"Yeah, I know, but it still went south didn't it? And I worry- Or I wonder if you wish-"

"Harry," Draco stopped him. "We're wizards. We're going to live until our wrinkles have wrinkles. I don't have any qualms about spending three of those years with you."

Harry nodded slowly, "Yeah," he agreed, feeling foolish. "Yeah, I knew that, I just..."

"Wanted to check?"

"Yeah."

"Do _you_ regret them?"

"No," Harry flinched. "Why would you- Oh, right, I get it."

"Well," Draco mused, shuffling himself back over to prop up Harry's side once more, "I for one feel incredibly nostalgic right now. It's been bloody ages since we've had a genuinely awkward post-breakup moment."

Harry's lip curled into a lopsided smile. "Shall we rehash the gory details of our divorce as well then? I'm still a little put out that you stole my armchair."

"I didn't steal it, I took it to a new home and provided it with love and care and a weekly vacuum. All you ever gave it were takeaway stains."

Harry clutched his chest and played at being _'utterly aghast'_ for a few moments before falling serious again. "I'm-"

"I swear to Godrick if you finish that sentence with the word _'sorry'_ , Potter..." Draco growled. He didn't like apologies all that much. Harry on the other hand seemed to have spent his entire life making them. It was a hard habit to break.

"-Hungry," Harry amended. "Let's go get me some sugar," he said, standing and dusting himself down. A heartbeat later he took off down the passageway safe in the knowledge that Draco would follow.

* * *

And hour later and the pair of them were hunkered down in the cellar of Honeyduke's surrounded by empty sweet wrappers. Draco read Alberic Grunnion's chocolate frog card with mild interest whilst Harry went about making friends with his jelly slugs. He'd apparently named the green one Herbert - for reasons Draco didn't even attempt to fathom.

"I used to want to do this," Draco gestured lazily around them.

"What, steal from decent, hard-working, unsuspecting wizards?" Harry joked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "No you prat. Make sweets. When I was a kid that's what I wanted to do with my life."

"I didn't know that," Harry sat up straighter. "Hey! Why didn't I know that?"

"Because if I'd told you you would have been all: _'Follow your dreams, Draco'_ and _'I believe in you, Draco'_ , and I'd have spent the next five years flogging a horse that I knew would never make it out of the starting gate."

Harry screwed up his face in protest. "I do _not_ sound like that."

Draco waited patiently.

"Alright, maybe I _have_. In _the past_. Key word there being _past_. But look at you, you've lasted years now without my _stellar_ life advice and you're doing just fine."

"Funny that," Draco clucked, but he heard the concession in there, the word _'stellar'_ standing in place of something that meant quite the opposite: Harry's admission that he hadn't always pushed Draco in the right directions, in spite of his intentions.

"You reckon it wouldn't work out then?"

"Would you encourage your godchildren to take candy from a deatheater?" Draco asked him bluntly.

"Probably not. I mean, _you_ , that would be fine obviously. But then, most people don't know you like _I_ know you, so... yeah, you'd most likely be fucked."

Draco marvelled at him.

"What?" Harry asked, shrugging off the attention like he didn't know what it was for.

Before either of them could say anything else a loud creak alerted them to the cellar door: It swung open and a figure loomed at the top of the stairs: "Who's there?"

"Fuck!" they both cursed under their breath, diving for the trap door. Draco had the sense to seal it up with a few obscure locking charms and then they were running again, as fast as their lungs and arms and legs could move.

About half a mile along the passageway grew steeper, beginning its uphill climb to meet the castle. The roof hung lower too so that the action of running required a cumbersome stoop; it wasn't long before their feet tripped over each other and they landed in a heap.

Neither of them moved and neither made a sound. The passage was silent. Draco stared up at Harry and Harry stared back down. Draco broke first. His fingers wound their way into the hair at the nape of Harry's neck like they'd never left and he reached his lips up to capture the ones that waited for him. He reached his other hand to grip onto the front of Harry's robes; Harry knew it meant the end was coming but he played it out as long as he could. The wrenching sound that escaped Draco's throat was the last warning he gave before he pushed Harry away with what little force he could muster.

He turned his face. Harry could feel the heat coming off his cheeks. The passage was silent again.

"Draco," Harry soothed. "It's fine."

"That's what you said at Luna's house-warming when we'd both knocked back enough firewhiskey to down a hippogriff – and it _wasn't_ fine, it was weird and uncomfortable for weeks."

Harry's chest pounded into his.

"This doesn't count though. This," he said, gesturing at the two of them as best he could in the cramped space, "This is chemicals and bodies that aren't even ours anymore. It doesn't have to mean anything."

Draco barked out a laugh, suddenly feeling the full weight of Harry on top of him, "You're such a cad, Potter."

Harry actually looked hurt; Draco wavered.

"We need to get out of this tunnel before they send someone to the other end."

"We'll apparate if someone comes," Harry countered.

"What if we're already within the castle's wards?"

"We're not."

"How do you kn-"

Harry cut him off with his mouth and Draco gave in. They wet their lips and soon found themselves tangling and grinding and rutting up against each other like the world might end - had probably already ended - but they couldn't quite bring themselves to care.

When it was over it was a mess.

Harry finally rolled off of Draco and lay down next to him. "Pomfrey then?"he asked.

Draco lifted an eyelid. "Probably should," he said - hesitated - and added: "That fucking tongue, Potter..."

They took in the state of each other, panting and sweating on their backs; both began to laugh.

* * *

"So..."

"Yeah..."

Harry and Draco sat across from each other on their hospital wing beds, dressed, awake, and back in their own bodies, still reeling from the headmistress' scolding.

The clock on the wall marched on through the silence.

"See, now, this is exactly what I meant," Draco huffed, "Weird and uncomfortable, just like last time!"

"Yeah, alright," Harry held up his hand, "You were right." He paused to think, rubbing his temples. "It doesn't have to be though, does it? It's only _awkward_ because we're both overthinking what the other is thinking. So how about we just _say_ what we're thinking and then we'll know."

Draco folded his arms and grumbled something to himself before seeming to settle in to the task.

"What I'm thinking?" he clarified after several minutes.

Harry nodded and waited, letting Draco stall as long as it took him to figure out what he really wanted to say.

"I don't want you to leave again."

"I-"

"Are you gonna let me say this or not?"

Harry backed off and gestured for Draco to go on.

"I understand why it had to happen. And I respect you for having the strength of will to end it when you did - I reckon if you hadn't, we wouldn't have what we have now."

"No," Harry agreed softly.

"But it really fucking hurt at the time. I knew things were getting bad, and looking back at it now, I know they'd have gotten worse - we'd have gotten to the point where we didn't remember all the things that had made it good and happy and _right_ , and we'd have ended up hating each other as much as we were already starting to hate ourselves."

"What we have now isn't the same as what we had then."

"That's exactly my point, Harry. What we have now _works_ , and nobody's leaving and nobody's getting cut to bits, and I don't want us to fuck it up."

"Did you ever think that maybe it works because we know how to handle each other better now? That if we'd had the ability to do _this_ ," Harry gestured between them, "When we were married then things might have turned out differently?"

Draco offered up a small smile. "Of course I have."

"Well..." Harry urged him on.

"It's not worth the risk."

"I disagree."

Draco stared at him. "Oh well, in that case," he said sarcastically.

"We got from that to this," Harry pushed on. "We can get back again, if we need to, I swear it. I'm not saying let's run off and renew our vows, I'm saying... lets not be weird and uncomfortable when stuff like this happens. Lets not stop it from happening if it wants to happen."

Draco rubbed at his arms. "I don't know," he stalled again.

"You _do_ know. There's an answer there, I can see it."

Draco shook his head and clamped his lips firmly shut.

"Please tell me," Harry outright begged. "I know it's pretty obvious which side of the fence I'm on, but whatever you decide, I'll respect it."

He waited.

Draco got down off the bed and started to pace; Harry watched him.

Eventually Draco came to a halt; he was right in front of Harry.

"Fine," he said.

"Fine?"

"Lets do it. Lets... Oh for Salazar's sake Harry will you just hurry up and kiss me already?"

Harry grinned and wrapped his legs around Draco's back to bring them closer. He brought their lips together softly, taking his time to retrace them, to know them properly again, to drag them between his teeth they way he knew Draco liked.

Draco snickered to himself and reached his arms around Harry's neck.

"We'll be alright," Harry promised in a whisper.

"Yeah," Draco agreed, "We will."


End file.
